That's what you call magic ?
by Silmaril666
Summary: Avengers AU / After Thor & HP ATDH / Voldemort has been defeated but a handful of Death Eaters are doing their best to get back in the game counting on a new weapon to ease their way back. That weapon should help them control the God of Mischief, securely detained in their prisons. Securely detained, really? What does the Trickster God really think of these mortals' designs?
1. Chapt 1: Boredom & imaginary assignments

**That's what you call magic ?**

_Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters used in this story. They belong respectively to Marvel and JK Rowling. _

Note : This story will take place in an alternate universe where the events of Thor/Avengers/Harry Potter ATDH happened broadly during the same time frame. The story will start 4 years after Voldemort's defeat, which will coincide with the start of the Avengers plot. Marvel's and Rowling's characters therefore live in the same world, even though they are not aware of it at the start of this story.

Sci-fi / Adventure / Romance

Loki / OC

Harry Potter/ Ron Weasley

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**Chapter one : Boredom and imaginary assignments**

*And I've been told I'm the monster…*

Loki could hear them running about above him, their laughs and elated conversations muffled through the heavy ceilings, several floors of inches-thick stones separating him from his captors, obviously ecstatic about a newly found distraction of theirs.

He was starting to grow bored after a few weeks confined in his cell, even if he was a tiny bit amazed by how every single day seemed to offer him something new to observe and study, as if all of this bad joke was nothing but a school assessment. He had even named this mandatory course in its head, a bit bitterly though. "Midgardian masters of magic", that's how it went. *What a scam*, he thought.

Even locked in the basement in the darkest corners of the mansion that was obviously these midgardians head-quarters, he had been the witness of many things and had done his best to swallow-in as much as he could without even looking like he cared. But he did care. Truly. And he wasn't sure if he was happy about that fact, or if he resented it. *masters of magic… with the unlimited power that magic could grant, is it really what they want to achieve with it?*.

He still struggled to understand their motives. He wasn't the only one locked up down here. He was one amongst a dozen at least, for what he could see from his cell to the depths of the dark corridor whose ends he couldn't see in the dark. But he was no common prisoner. He knew that. His captors knew it too. But did his cell mates ? Most of them had been quiet for days. Agitated at their arrival, like all of them were, trying to figure out where they were being kept, who was locked down with them, how they could break out. Most of them knew each other already, friends for some, but most likely allies in battles that they had won. Well… battles they thought they had won, judging by their distress down in the cells and their surprise. Loki didn't know what had happened in this war before he had landed –crashed, to be accurate – on Midgard, but he understood that, as always, mortals had found a way to fight over something and to destroy each other in the process. How trivial. All he knew was that his dungeon companions also pretended to master magic, since some of them had tried to magic their way out of here, only to find out that these cells had been designed to prevent anyone from using magic within it. *Really ? Any kind of magic ? Sure about this ?*. Loki chuckled with a grin at this though, too careful to let any more sound echo in the dimness of the dungeons.

As the din was getting closer to their corridor, Loki returned to his favorite spot, sitting on the ground in the far left corner of his geol, picking a book – favor that he was the only one to have been granted – to pretend he was nothing but interested in the fuss going about, while his eyes were actually spying every glimpse of the entertainment they could decipher in the gloom. He already knew what would happen. The only cells left in the wing were the one surroundings his, on his side and opposite him, as if his captors wanted to keep him hidden from the other prisoners. *Pretty efficient, so far*.

All he could hear were the familiar voices of the men detaining him, which was odd, because every other time they had brought someone in, they was still some struggle left in the captive. This time, there was none, as if the prisoner had already given up. Or maybe he had been knocked down. The seconds that separated Loki from the answer to that question seemed to last an hour. Oh by Yggdrasil, he was so bored!

He was relieved to see that the answer was the latter option, because it meant that the captive had still some resistance to offer them, which meant more distraction for him in the upcoming days. Less boredom. More minor details to study and build a nice and rich assessment paper for his imaginary assignment. How diligent of him!

So resistance there was again. And a proper resistance that had forced them to beat him down properly judging by the blood on his face and the state of his clothes.

Loki swallowed as he had to correct his observations in his mind. Not his clothes. Hers. They had found a way to capture a woman again. And Loki knew fairly well what would happen. Women never stayed that long in the cells. And he would be bored soon enough again. As his disappointment reached his stomach, he decided that this new distraction was not worth wasting any more attention and returned to his book, going back through the pages that he had pretended to read just a few minutes ago.

*So, is now the time when you find out what a proper master of magic can do?*.* Soon*, he thought. But it wasn't the first time he had thought this. He had been thinking about it for a while now, but couldn't put a finger on the reason that had prevented him from proceeding.

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When the cell bars closed with a loud grinding noise, she took a deep breath and opened slowly her eyes. *So that's where they've been hiding all along?*.

Without a sound, she moved her hand to her right shoulder, touching lightly the tiny bump on her skin that made her stomach unwind and managed to make her smile. *Oh, bad idea!*. Smiling hurt. It made her cough. Coughing hurt. She was coughing blood. She had to rest. The night would be long. *Or is it day already?*.


	2. Chapter 2: Magic your way out

**That's what you call magic?**

**Chapter two: Magic your way out**

All she could feel at this moment was the coldness of the stones against her skin. She had been hanging their only for half-an-hour, but her limbs were already sore. Even if she had wanted to answer their questions, all logic had left her mind. Her spirit was wandering around the room, torn between reckoning the pain that was crushing her, or laughing at the situation, since she was completely responsible for ending up in here, humiliated and tortured by creepy Death Eaters.

But she couldn't laugh. It was too painful. And it would have angered her captors even more. They had been quite amused the day before, obviously relishing the fact that they could add a woman to their precious little dungeons. But they were not laughing so hard any more after a few broken noses and fingers, all on their side (even though her nose was probably not in a good shape either). They were angry with her sneaky fists, angry with her sharp knees, and most of all angry with her silence. That definitely wasn't a good equation for her. But she couldn't even hear their questions, every sound echoing in her ears as if she was just an empty drum inside. *Maybe I am?*, she wondered.

But her chaotic thoughts disappeared when a sudden wave of icy water knocked her against the wall, leaving her with the sole belief that she was going to drown, right there, chained in that room . She couldn't breathe for a time, stroke by the cold sinking through her clothes up to her bones, reviving her wounds in the process. She was dragged back to reality when a rough hand gripped her chin and a warm breath heated her cheeks, forcing her eyes open.

"How long have you been following us?" the man asked. "There is no point in playing it brave darling, we will know who else was with you at the White Wyvern, one way or another… and between you and I, you better talk to me before they take you out of my hands. I'm much better company than some of my companions…"

She stared into his eyes with as much assurance as she could manage, with blackened-eye and all.

"You can sweet-talk me as much as you want Travers, I know fairly well who you are and I'll never surrender to a scum like you", she managed to snap through her clenched teeth.

Travers stepped back a little, simply smiling, petting her wet hair with a fake gentle gesture.

"So she can speak! What a wonder! Now that we know that, let's see what else I can get out from you, insults aside… no more sweet-talk, I promise…"

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**2 days ago**

Her fingers tightened firmly around her pint of butterbeer as she sunk deeply into her seat, gluing her back to the wooden booth she had been sitting in for the last couple of hours. She was desperate to get a better sense of what the men chatting in the booth next to hers were saying, trying her best to focus on their voices over the din in the pub. But no matter how hard she tried, she only managed to grasp segments and words. Not really what she would need to fulfill her self-inflicted mission, and convince her colleagues once and for all that something dangerous was going on in Knockturn Alley.

"… find out how it works…" she grasped, followed by "he will have to do whatever we ask him to"

"… how is it going to take?..." another one whispered. "… way too powerful…"

The rest of the conversation was spoken so low that she got lost tracking the words, jumping on her seat as they suddenly burst out laughing, one of them spitting out a word with so much contempt that it made her shudder: "Trickster".

*How am I suppose to make any sense of this and report it to the Ministry?* she thought, bitter, before realizing that she just had one solution left: going along with her plan to get proper intel and prove the Ministry that she had been right all this time, even though she still hoped to be proven wrong. Every bit of information she had collected for the past fourteen months had convinced her that a few Dead Eaters were still around and planning something to get back in the game. And obviously, no one at the Ministry of Magic had considered her evidence as convincing.

*Of course they didn't! Who would listen to a lame Ministry Agent that didn't even pass her Auror final test yet after seven years of training?*. That thought was like acid on her guts. *It's time to prove them wrong*.

She gathered her belongings silently and stepped out of her booth, walking with confidence towards the exit. Well, that was what she would have done if she hadn't tripped on her way out of the booth, sprawling on the floor like a disarticulated doll at the feet of the men she had just been spying on just a few minutes ago.

Lifting her head up, her eyes met with ones of the men's, confirming her that they indeed had noticed her, if their laughs had not already given away that information. She rose up and quickly walked out of the pub, throwing away her coat and bag once in the street, ready to run.

"I know her! She's ones of Whitehall! She works for the Ministry!" she had heard just before she had reached the exit door. They knew who she was. They would follow her out there. There was no doubt about this.

Her wand clenched in one hand, she started to head towards the closest end of Knockturn Alley, oblivious to the men rushing out of the White Wyvern to chase her in the dark.

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**Present**

Loki had been right. His new cellmate was indeed a poor distraction to the God of Mischief. She had remained unconscious for most of the night, and when she woke up, she just crawled to the back of the cell, waiting silently in a dark corner, as though she already knew where she was. She didn't rush to the bars to scrutinize her surroundings, like the other ones did. She didn't call for help, or shout through the corridor to find out if she were alone, like the other ones did. She didn't weep, or didn't even emit a single sound. It was intriguing - he had to admit - but that was not enough to save Loki from boredom.

As he had foretold, some of her captors came back for her on the following day, still delighted by their prize and some fresh blood to work on. It turned out that the first bloodshed came from one of them, efficiently hit in the shoulder by the woman who had managed to stab him with a pin, probably one that used to be in her hair. She struggled as their dragged her out, but still, she remained as silent as before: the only things that echoed in the dungeons were her kicks, her punches and her panting breath.

*And here goes the fun away*, Loki thought as he watched them disappear down the hall, her back arching in protest, her long brown hair heavy with sweat and blood.

Silence and darkness surrounded him again as he sat back in his cell, his mind wandering to places he longed to see again, places he missed probably as much as he dreaded them. As he could practically touch the grass and smell the fragrances of Asgardians green lands, he jumped back to reality, startled, as the wall he was leaned on seemed to shake slightly. His senses sharp as a razorblade, he stood up, dissecting every noise, sound and sensation he could perceive. Nothing. There was nothing. But that nothingness was different from the usual one, he could have sworn it.

But his internal debate was suddenly cut short as the main dungeons' door slammed open, a couple of men bringing finally back their new toy-girl to her cell. Loki stepped forward to get a better look, and noticed how much paler she was now. Maybe it were the fresh cuts on her skin that balanced with the color of her flesh. Or maybe it was because more flesh was actually exposed than before. She was soaked from head to toe, half of her clothes jagged, revealing large surfaces of skin that had been severely injured. *Are these burns?*, wondered Loki. *They don't seem to have been inflicted by any midgardian weapon I've ever seen… Probably a work of magic of theirs…*. He furrowed his brow at this thought, distracted a few seconds later by the slow procession reaching its destination, the men opening the cell in front of his to lock her back in.

While one of the captors checked her cell for any potential weapon before throwing her inside, she slowly raised her head up, watching the ceiling with questioning eyes as if she was trying to decipher a message written in the mold clods. And then she just… smiled. Not a mad, crooked smile like Loki had often seen on prisoners that had lost their mind. A genuine, sincere smile.

"What are you smiling at?" snapped one of her "caretakers", who had also noticed this drastic change on her face. "Enjoy being back in your quarters? Your nice cozy new home?" She ignored him and kept her eyes up, as if she could see beyond the stones and was witnessing the most beautiful event that ever happened on Earth.

She finally broke her silence in a whisper, her eyes never leaving the ceiling. "Can't you hear it?"

The men exchanged a puzzled look and froze, listening halfheartedly to the silence surrounding them. And then they heard it. Everyone in the geol heard it. So did Loki. It was like a drumming sound, except there was not tempo, and no pattern linking the different sounds together.

"What the hell is this?" asked one of the captors, slightly panicking. He turned to the woman, and suddenly grabbed her by the throat, shoving her against the wall angrily with a firm hand around her neck. "You know what it is, don't you?!"

She chuckled and kept smiling, his grip loosening just enough for her to answer calmly "That, my dear, is the sound of how you got screwed up by a girl".

Her jest was punctuated by a loud "bang" that seemed to shake the entire planet, throwing the two captors out of balance, suddenly struggling to stay up on their feet. That was just enough distraction for the woman to attack them, moving swiftly between them to punch and bring them down, taking advantage of their confusion to apply everything she had learned during her Auror training.

Loki watched her knocking them unconscious, surprised that she still had enough energy to strike them down despite everything she must have been through during the questioning. He had gone through it himself and had found it quite unpleasant, his godly figure being nonetheless utterly resistant to midgardian ways, whether they were performed with magic or not. He never thought a mortal body structure could resist it that well though, humans being so much weaker physically and mentally, compared to… well, compared to himself.

She must have been aware that no magic could be performed underground in the cells, because she started to search through the men's pockets for the dungeon keys, obviously driven by the intention of freeing the other prisoners before escaping. *Will she release me as well?*. Not that it mattered. Their magic was nothing compared to his. He could escape by himself whenever he wanted. He could escape right now without even being noticed. No one could trap the God of Mischief forever, especially not when mortals were involved. Yet, he wasn't going to do anything. He was curious. He wanted to find out what they would do. What she would do. And then, if necessary, he would magic his way out. Of course he would magic his way out.

As if she had heard his thoughts, she raised her head and laid her eyes on him, as if she had never noticed that someone was there before. *For sure she must have known, I was right across her cell, how could she have not noticed my presence?*. Ooohh pride!

But her eyes were hard to read, and he couldn't grasp at the moment if she was confused about who he was, or if she was just seeing through him, not even considering wasting time on a stranger. He decided it must have been the later, since she suddenly strode off to the other side of the corridor, the keys rattling in her hands as she reached the furthest cell in the ward. He couldn't see her any more, but was soon overwhelmed by the din caused by the awakening of the other prisoners, cheering and shouting through the dungeons to make sure none of them would be left behind.

"Avebury! By Merlin's sake!" he heard one of them shout with relief. "Who sent you here? What's going on?"

"Sorry Finnigan, I don't have time to explain. We need to get people out now! Give me a hand with this!" she answered quickly.

Loki could hear the doors opening one by one, and the relief in the prisoners' voices, the old and the young, gradually moving closer to his cell, until they reached the empty cells around him, led by the woman that he could hear shout just a few yards from him. She hushed them out as they passed in front of his cell, stopping in front of him without looking in his direction, urging the other ones to release the remaining prisoners before stepping out of the dungeons. Still standing in front of his cell, she didn't move a finger, watching her friends – he presumed – running out of the corridor, leaving the main door open behind them. She didn't move until the silence came back in the ward, interrupted solely by repeated blasts and shouting voices that seemed a mile away, smothered through the layers of stones standing above them.

Loki didn't move either, standing up straight in the middle of the room, his arms folded behind his back, his chin high, his eyes bright with expectations, focused on her.

She finally turned to him, her eyes properly acknowledging his presence for the first time. She looked confident, stepping closer to his cell to get a better look at him, detailing him from head to toe with cautious eyes, as if she could get hurt in the process. Her wary eyes eventually met his, looking as if she was gauging how much power was hidden behind his eyes, staring at him during seconds that seemed to last hours. She broke the silence, with an assured voice that Loki recognized instantly as a disguise.

"I've never seen you before… how did you end up in here?"

Loki was surprised. This wasn't the first question he would have asked. Didn't she want to know who he was in the first place? But he was the God of Lies after all. Who cared what the question was. He could lie his way out anyway. Or magic his way out if he wanted to. Yes he could.

"To be honest with you", he started, lowering his gaze as if he was trying to remember distant memories "I am not entirely certain that I do comprehend how I landed here. I was traveling on my own and… well, I guess I just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, so to speak".

We he looked up, her eyes hadn't flickered. She was processing the information, as cautiously as she had detailed him just before.

"You were traveling? Where to?"

*Shouldn't you have asked "where from?"* he gloated, internally.

"I was on my way to the Americas if you must know" he simply answered. Her silence suggested him that he should try to develop his tale a little further. "I departed from home a few months past for a long journey throughout the world… that led me to various places until I moved on to your lands. I must say that your people are not the most welcoming personas I had the pleasure to gain acquaintance with during my voyage", he concluded with a contrite smile, not avoiding her eyes any longer.

"Why are you travelling for?" she just asked, deliberately putting aside the comments about 'her people'.

*And she still do not ask where I am from… How soft-witted can those mortals be?!* Loki thought.

"Can't we just say that I am some kind of 'explorer' and leave it to this?" he suggested with a weak smile that conveyed both weariness and strain, emotions that he felt were totally legitimate under the circumstances.

She didn't answer, stepping closer to his cell to reach for the metal bars, never breaking eye contact with him. She finally cracked a smile, suddenly releasing the tension of her body by leaning against the cell door, her brow pressed heavily on the metal, her eyes still on him.

"Odd outfit for an explorer, don't you think?", she finally added, as if to tease him with that mocking smile of hers, openly detailing him again with inquisitive eyes before stepping back with a grin, moving away slowly from him.

Loki didn't look away, trying to understand why on Earth she was wasting her time on him if it was to leave him behind trapped in the dungeons of a cheap mansion currently under siege by attackers unknown to him. His eyes didn't let go of hers until she stormed off, suddenly running away from him without any more word.

Puzzled by this exchange that didn't seem to make any sense, Loki felt suddenly a rush of anger rush through his veins. He had been locked away in filth for weeks by impotent so-called sorcerers, and not even one of these humans managed to gather how important he was? Couldn't they feel his power and strength? Couldn't they sense the ruthless magic that was running underneath his skin? That hypothesis sounded senseless to him, since he could feel every single strand of magic that he had run past since he had landed there. How could they be so blind to his might?

Angrier than he had ever been since he had arrived on that desolated land called 'Midgard', he started to reach for his magic, ready to blow off this bloody door that he had pretended to be prisoner from for too long. But before he could cast his power onto it, he finally noticed it. Rusty, crass. Small, dark, nearly insignificant.

The key.

She had left the key on the door before running away.


	3. Chapter 3: From one cage to another

**Note : **Finally some action coming through in this chapter! Sorry for the first two chapters that had to put things in place before getting properly into the plot. More action is to be expected in the upcoming chapters, I promess! I hope you will enjoy this chapter and leave a comment to let me know what you think!

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**Chapter 3: From one cage to another**

It took her more time than she had expected to find her way out of the cellars where she had been held captive. Running through the endless maze of corridors, she finally found the main door that led to the ground floor of the mansion. Accustomed to the darkness of the cells, she was momentarily blinded by the light that rushed at her, unable to recognize the figure she ran into violently.

"Skye!" she heard a familiar voice acknowledging her with relief. "I thought I'll never find you in here!"

"Oh God Potter, I've never been so glad to see you! "she panted. "How many of you are here? How is it going?"

"Just about half-a-dozen, those who were available for a mission on such a short notice! Don't worry about that, everything is under control, thanks to the element of surprise! Let's get you out of here now."

She simply nodded, relieved that her plan had worked, following Harry towards the entrance of the mansion, a huge wooden door in front of which two giant staircases departed. Before they could reach the lobby, getting closer to the heavy sounds of the battle raging a few steps ahead, Harry suddenly stopped, turning around to face her.

"I nearly forgot…" he said, searching something inside his robes. "I thought you might need this".

She grabbed avidly her wand from his hands, smiling to him with a mixture of relief and excitement as she felt complete again, ready to face anything now that she had her shield and sword "As always Potter, you're a real savior!"

When they finally reached the foot of the stairs, she was startled for a second at the sight of the fight going on. Spells were flying in every direction, and sorcerers were appearing and disappearing from different corners of the room, confronting each others in an overwhelming chaos. Many Death Eaters were running out of the way, heading upstairs towards the upper floors of the house. But some of them kept on fighting the aurors with rage and fury, casting as many curses as they could to push back the offensive, as if they could still save their precious head-quarters.

She would have never thought that the Death Eaters were so numerous. From the information she had gathered she had estimated that around twenty of them had joined some of Voldemort's former favorites, presumed dead after the Second Wizarding War. But from what she could see, there were more than forty of them, and who knows how many more were still out there in the wild.

"Just get out of here and make sure the prisoners are safely out!" she heard Harry shout at her as a couple of Death Eaters vanished from their path, giving up the fight at the sight of the Chosen One.

"Many of them are still in the building, I can help you out! That's what I'm here for!" she protested.

"No need for that! Ron and Neville are already on it, and I need you out! " he replied in haste, checking for any sign of more enemies coming their way. Noticing her silent refusal to comply, he turned to her and added softly: "I'm sorry Skye: Kingsley's orders …"

He stroke her arm with sympathy before turning his back at her, climbing the steps two at a time, leaving her in front of the doorway before she could retaliate.

A little shocked by these commands, it took her a minute before gathering her senses, casting a last glance at the huge staircases before stepping out. But before she was completely out of the building, a thought crossed her mind: why would some Death Eaters keep fighting the aurors if their headquarters were already compromised? And why would the other ones run upstairs instead of disapparating at once? That didn't make sense at all.

And then she remembered the fragments of conversation she had overheard in the tavern a few days before: "find out how it works… and he will have to do whatever we ask him to". Were they talking about some secret machine or weapon they had laid their hands upon? Was it what they were trying to protect from the aurors before escaping the mansion?

There was no time to deliberate. She had to clear this out. Without further hesitation she rushed up the stairs following the escaping Death Eaters, determined to find out what secret was hidden in those mysterious upper floors.

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Loki waited a while before stepping out of his cage. Not that he had grown fond of it, but he knew that under the current situation, he'd better let these midgardian sorcerers deal with each other first and clear the path for him to avoid any unnecessary trouble. He eventually took hold of the key that his fellow cell-mate had left for him and freed himself, straightening up lightly his slightly ripped leather tunic before stepping out of his cell with a confident gait.

He followed the corridors to make his way out of the underground levels, passing through doors and galleries without hesitation as if he had designed the building himself. After several weeks as a prisoner, he had had enough time to create a mental map of the mansion using every glimpse of the rooms he could grasp every time he had been led out of his cell for questioning. He knew exactly where he wanted to go: he had to retrieve what belonged to him before whoever attacked his captors had a chance to get to it.

He could feel its power calling him. He could hear it in his head. No mortal had been able to wield it, so it seemed. Good thing he was now out of his jail to give the weapon its rightful owner back.

As he progressed through the hallways and finally gained the main staircase, he carefully stepped back in the shadow of a pillar to assess the situation: the attackers were obviously sorcerers as well, judging by the wands they were carrying in their hands, similar to the ones owned by his captors. Some of the men were shouting spells out loud while others only had to move their wooden stick around to release power out of it, rays of light and sparks flying around like fireworks. He noticed that most of them were also using teleportation during combat, which managed to impress him a tiny bit. As for the rest of their tactics, it didn't appear to be very elaborate. In short, there was nothing around he couldn't breach through.

Using his favourite dissimulation spell to remain unnoticed by the mortals fighting around him, he climbed slowly up the stairs, guided by the power of the weapon that had been kept away from him for too long, hidden somewhere on the top floor of the house. But as its power kept sinking in his veins to draw him closer, he suddenly felt something overwhelming him, like a knife between his ribs. But there was no knife, there was nothing. It was as if that knife was stabbing him from the inside, weakening his whole self in an instant. Staggering against the wall to regain his senses, he then realized that his dissimulation spell was no longer effective. Several pairs of eyes were on him, none of them friendly.

Gathering his strength to engage in the fight that was about to happen, he raised his hand to attack one of the Death Eaters walking towards him. But as soon as he summoned his magic, that blinding pain in his stomach came back like a boomerang, as if the spell he had wanted to cast had just turned against him.

*Hel, what is happening to me?*

Unable to find any more strength to call for his magic again, and resigned himself to engage combat in a more traditional way: physical strength and a thousand-old fighting training should easily help him get rid of these mere humans. His arms were stronger than theirs: he stopped the man that was running at him just by grabbing his throat, lifting him up in the air like a puppet to throw him down the stairs. His velocity was higher, his senses sharper: ducking from one side to another while advancing on two opponents, he managed to avoid several magical blasts targeted at him, cunningly moving at such angles that the blasts injured instead three of their allies who had joined the combat from another side. His movements were precise, thoroughly planned ahead and neatly executed: a few pushes in the stomach, an elbow making contact with a jaw and two kicks to the kneecap where just enough for Loki to get rid of the last three assailants, barely slowing him down on his way to the top floor.

Several rooms were on that floor, but only one whose door was open, unconscious legs lying on the threshold. Aware that people were still fighting in that room, Loki rushed in to claim his possession, his mind momentarily blinded by the powerful magic that seemed to cry out to him, stronger than ever. He had had enough of this non-sense. Whoever would stand between him and his due would pay the price for it.

The room was small but somehow crowded with people, even though most of them were now lying on the ground, knocked down. From what he could see, only three of his captors were still standing, facing two other sorcerers unknown to him. Scanning the room for his stolen good, his eyes finally landed on it. His majestic silver staff, with its blue gem flickering in the dark like a tamed flame waiting to be rekindled. He was so relieved to lay his eyes on it again that he didn't notice at first that someone was holding it. It was that woman, the one that had left the key for him in the dungeons.

She wasn't holding it like a weapon, or some kind of trophy unlike his captors had. No. She was holding it like it was the most precious thing she had ever held, never taking her gaze away from it. She looked like she had never seen anything so beautiful in her life, mesmerized by its perfection. Loki knew very well that look. He probably had the same look on his face the first time Thanos had entrusted the sceptre to him.

"Skye! Bloody hell, what are you doin'? Just take this damn thing out of here!" shouted one of the sorcerers, his ginger hair whirling around his head in the fight, the sound of his piercing voice shaking her out of her dreaming state.

Loki couldn't let that happen, he had to take it back before it was too late.

Rising from the door frame where he had been standing, he plunged onto her, grabbing her shoulders fiercely from behind to force her grip to loosen from the staff. But he wasn't the only one to have heard the command of her friend. The three sorcerers had also realized that the woman was about to take off with their precious weapon and would not let her go so easily, aiming their wand at her and firing spells in her direction. Luckily for her, Loki's attack had been faster, forcing her on the ground - face first - before any of their curses could reach her. Taking advantage of the confusion, Loki went to retrieve the scepter from under the woman's body, but her fingers were still firmly clenched to it. He was ready to knock her down to force her to release it but more sorcerers suddenly rushed through the door, taking down her three attackers, putting a sudden halt to the fight, no more assailant standing up to retaliate.

Loki had to think quickly. The instant pain in his stomach when he tried to teleport away seemed to confirm what he had feared earlier: his magic was weakened. He couldn't magic his way out as he usually did.

Still curled up on top of the woman with his knee on her spine and his hands on her shoulders, he lifted his eyes to the newcomers, three sorcerers all pointing their silly wand right at him. Forcing a weary smile and an awkwardly puzzled look, he slowly held his hands in the air and got up to show that he wasn't a threat.

"All right… no need for that, gentlemen… I was just… I was just trying to get her out their way, that's all" he said calmly, his eyes fluttering quickly from one sorcerer to another, trying to figure out which one of them was their leader.

He stepped back away from her slowly, clearing the way so that one of the men could help her up, checking that everything was all right. Grateful for this helpful hand but still a bit confused after the fight, she finally turned to Loki and seemed surprised to discover who was the man that had held her down just a minute before.

"Thank you Neville, I'm all right I think" she muttered to the slightly chubby man that had lifted her up, before turning to the other sorcerers still menacing Loki with their wands. "I'm not sure to know what really happened there to be honest… it's quite fuzzy right now… I was… face down…"

"I've seen it", interrupted the ginger sorcerer that had told the girl to take the sceptre away before Loki attacked her. He had remained behind when the three men had jumped in to rescue them, but he was now getting up to take part in the debate, despite wounds to his leg that seemed to make him suffer like hell. "If he hadn't jumped in she would have been struck by three Killing Curses, that's what I know".

On these words, most of the wands lowered down, all but one. A black-haired sorcerer was still threatening Loki without leaving him out of his sight, eying him suspiciously behind his spectacles. *Now we know who's their leader* acknowledged mentally Loki.

"Are you sure about that Ron?" he asked.

"Well, yeah… you don't trust my eye sight any more Harry?" the ginger one teased, forcing his fellow sorcerer to drop the wand down and leave Loki off the hook for the moment.

Loki knew he was cornered. Surrounded by unknown sorcerers and betrayed he couldn't take the chance to risk an attack to take the sceptre from them without being sure that he could wield the staff despite his weakened powers. He would have to play this farce along a little longer it seemed, at least until he could feel his magic restoring itself, or until he could find another way to get things under control again.

He let himself being accompanied out of the mansion with the others, following the slow procession of wounded and captives escorted by the sorcerers in command. The black-haired man that was named 'Harry' had taken the sceptre in his care, obviously aware that this item was important and potentially dangerous.

On their way out, Loki noticed that the woman – Skye, he seemed to recall – had barely lifted her eyes from the sceptre after things had settled down. She seemed completely bewitched by the staff, stumbling from time to time, oblivious to her surroundings. She was finally distracted by some of her friends that had been waiting for her away from the house, checking on her while drowning her under exclamations and praises, stating excitingly how wonderfully their plan had turned up.

"Can't believe that the GPS tracker-thing actually worked! These muggle devices aren't that dumb after all!" he overheard one of them say. "The Weasley boy couldn't understand any bit of it until we actually showed him the map on the computer! I thought we'll never manage to get the aurors out in time… we were so worried that the Death Eaters might find out about the tracker-chip in your shoulder before we reached you…!"

The woman smiled weakly at him, exhaustion finally getting at her after the last days' events.

"You did great Perkins, you can be proud of yourself, and you too Tavish! But keep your enthusiasm for the Ministry… you know we are going to be debriefed for this right?" she reminded them, walking over to the group of sorcerers that had gathered to head back together to the Ministry.

"All of us? To debrief?" asked Perkins, suddenly less comfortable than before.

As she passed next to Loki, she raised her eyes to him and answered coldly "Oh yeah, every single one of us I'm afraid".

Loki didn't glance back at her and pretended he hadn't heard, forcing himself not to think about how he was going to be questioned again and how he'd better make up a pretty good lie to get out of this 'debrief' as soon as possible.

As he was being transported by the sorcerers to their head-quarters, he managed to find at least one thought to cheer up about.

*Seems like I am about to find out what this 'Ministry of Magic' non-sense is all about…*


	4. Chapter 4: Masquerade

**Note: **I'd like to thank everyone who read the first chapters and came back to read more! You have no idea how having 'followers' cheered me up!

I apologise for the delay between these two chapters: I realised a bit late that this chapter was going to be very long, so I had to split it in two eventually... which means that the biggest part of the next chapter is already written and should be online in just a few days!

I apologise in advance for any grammatical error of some sorts: English is not my mother tongue and I don't have any beta-reader so far... if anyone feels like becoming one, just let me know!

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think!

**OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO**

**Chapter 4: Masquerade**

They didn't have to wait long before two cars joined them, driving through the empty field in front of the mansion to pick them up. Loki eyed the old-fashioned green cars with skepticism, wondering who would be the lucky fellows to be left behind once those ridiculously small transports would be filled with the four passengers they could transport at best. To his bewilderment, he watched the leader of the "rescue mission" follow the two sorcerers captured during the battle in one of the car, immediately joined in by at least five of his colleagues. Directed towards the second vehicle by the red-head wizard, he suspiciously observed his six former cellmates step in easily one by one, followed by the infiltrated woman, Skye, who turned to him to check he was still behind her. Conscious that he was being watched, he simply complied without a word.

Once inside, his mood brightened a bit when he realized that these cars were no ordinary midgardian vehicles: they were enchanted to be bigger on the inside and thus contain much more people than it appeared. *That's quite clever…* he though, looking around him while sitting with the other former prisoners. *… clever as far as mortals are concerned at least.*

As the vehicles drove away from the scene, Loki realized that their impressive speed had also something to do with magic as well as their form that seemed to shift on command: since when were midgardian cars able to weave through forests and squeeze through passages narrower than Asgard's secret passages? Loki could have sworn that the space had bent around them to let them push through traffic between dozens of other cars, which was a quite neat and useful trick, if anyone asked his opinion.

But he had no time to mentally praise them and admit that he would have never thought that such inferior beings could put up something so smart. He had to figure out a cover story and a false identity for himself before they reach their destination. He knew fairly well that he was going to be interrogated once there. And judging by the way Skye was staring at him from one corner of the car, he had already arisen suspicion among some of these sorcerers.

Even though he had observed his captors for a while and hoarded as much information as he could, he wasn't certain that he had grasped enough context to forge an identity within their "wizarding world". As far as he was concerned, he had discovered the existence of this brand of mortal just a few weeks before. If he was going to play it safe – which was not his favorite approach to be honest – he would have to stick to the knowledge he had beforehand on regular midgardians and pretend he knew nothing about magic. Not that innocence and naivety were feelings he felt accustomed to. That could be challenging.

The cars stopped after a ride that seemed to have lasted barely a minute, the incessant chatting between the prisoners fading when the door opened. He recognized London in a second, even though the last time he had laid eyes on it, it had looked very different – he had heard that a fire had torched to city after his visit, some time ago. The streets seemed somehow familiar, but most of the buildings were too recent for him to recognize.

Not that he was given the time to dissect every little detail of the environment around him before being asked to step inside a weird exiguous red box with two other former prisoners. Loki complied without a word and didn't even have the time to complain about his face being pressed hardly against the red box's windows: The box had suddenly started to descend underground, forcing Loki to endure this awkward position in an even more awkward silent. Their lift finally stopped and opened to let them step out on a dark wooden floor into a gigantic hall that took Loki's breath away despite his hatred for Migdardian architecture.

At first, he had troubles taking his eyes off the electric blue ceiling on which golden signs seem to be dancing around, magically morphing into something else with every heartbeat. Forced back into motion by his 'companions', his gaze fell on the large corridor in front of them that was leading to a wider lobby in the centre of which invested an impressive fountain made of golden characters and fine carvings. He couldn't tell who the statues where supposed to be – two of them being creatures he had never seen before – but he did recognize the shape of a centaur, and the figures of two mortal beings: A man and a woman - both gifted with magic, thought Loki, noticing the wands they carried in their hands.

*I thought Midgardians dreaded magic and burnt sorcerers, not that they raised golden figures of them on pedestals*frowned the God of Mischief, refusing to admit even to himself that this building had enough qualities to impress at least a little a few-thousands-of-years-old Asgardian.

Rapid movements and flashes of light to his left side attracted his attention away from the fountain, forcing him to back away a little from the fireplaces where people suddenly materialized from. Loki blinked, surprised to discover that Midgardians where able to master this kind of magical work. A brown-haired wizard he had seen earlier in the mansion stepped out from one of the fireplace, walking straight towards the female sorcerer that was standing next to Loki.

"Where were you gone Skye? We waited for your car and though you had been attacked on the way or something" he asked angrily.

"Sorry Longbottom" she answered with fake courtesy, obviously not impressed by his reproachful tone. "I took them through the phone box, the visitors' entrance… with the strain they've all been through, I thought that they could use a little break from magical transportation".

They faced each others for a few seconds that seemed to last minutes, gauging each other as if they were trying to figure out who had the mightiest wand. The man finally stepped away to let her walk alongside him, both of them leading the group of six 'witnesses' down the hall through several golden gates. The six of them were then separated and sent away in different directions, each of them accompanied in a lift by an unknown agent.

The way down was so short that Loki only managed to count one floor before the door flung open. He was led through a large corridor with open cubicles before being politely asked to wait on a bench for someone to come and pick him up for debriefing, Loki knew that he'd better get ready for a questioning and therefore start to absorb his new personality traits. A shy mask of innocence and amazement was still on his face since he had stepped within the Ministry, so he decided to perfect it a bit by adding to his traits an ounce of qualm and just a pinch of fear. These feelings would probably be the ones that would experience a nice little mortal suddenly brought into a surreal magical world, he figured.

His eyes focused blindly on the ground with concern, he intentionally jumped on his seat when a pair of dirty shoes came into his field of view, forcing him to look up to the man that had come for him. He greeted the man with a fake gentle smile as he recognized the sorcerer that had lead to rescue mission. He followed him without a word, gazing at the man's back while wondering how such a young person could have been put in charge of a whole mission. He didn't look special at all, with his thick dark hair and his tiny eyes hidden behind his glasses. He was shorter than Loki, and his gait seemed a little awkward for someone that seemed to have a lot of responsibilities around that place. He barely looked like an adult to the trickster god, but there was something in his eyes that seemed much older.

Loki was invited to take a seat in a small room that was probably someone's office, even though the desk was nearly empty apart from an odd plant and a pile of old papers. The young sorcerer sat in front of him and turned slightly to wave his hand towards a small table in a corner where a quill instantly stood up over a piece of parchment, apparently ready to write down every word that would be spoken in the room. Loki raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed one more time, but managed to resume to his mask of preoccupation as if he couldn't make sense of anything around him.

"So let's get on with it", started the sorcerer with a wry smile towards Loki. "My name is Harry Potter and I am receiving you on behalf of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Ministry of Magic following the events of Grays' Mansion on May, 16th 2012."

This time, Loki didn't even have to pretend to be thunderstruck. *Ministry of Magic? Magic law? What on Iggdrasil is happening in this place?*

"You were found within the facility of Grays' Mansion as one of the eight hostages released during our rescue mission. Is that correct?"

"Hum… yes it is, Sir…" stammered Loki, still agape. "… even though I was never informed on the location of my detention" he added, is eyes shying away from Harry Potter's.

"It's fine. I'll just need you to tell me as much as you can remember from your time with your attackers. But first things first: I need you to state your name, date of birth and your current address, please."

" Right. Of Course." said Loki, pretending to gather his senses "I am Walter Lawson, born on April, 1st 1983, currently residing in York, 87 Lawrence Street" he quickly stated, suddenly grateful for the few minutes of self-brainstorming that he had imposed on himself earlier in the car.

"So Walter… how exactly did you end up in Gray's Mansion - 22 miles east of London - while you are living in York, more than a couple of hundred miles away from here?"

"I was afraid that you would just ask this Sir" started Loki, wary eyes on his shoes, before lifting them up on the sorcerer to add quickly "even though I must admit that I did not know that I had been transported so far away from my residence… I do not understand… How did they manage it?"

Casting a desperate glance at his interrogator, Loki saw a thin frown form on the man's brow before he kept on asking questions. "So you say that someone transported you there, is that correct?"

"Yes Sir" quickly responded Loki. "It's one of the only things I fell sure about these days"

"Do you remember when it happened? And where? Do you have any memory of an attack?" encouraged Harry Potter.

Loki frowned slightly as if he was trying hard to remember something very distant.

"I was just walking home from work… I am a librarian, if you must know… I was just a few minutes away from my residence, walking through the city walls to exit the city centre, when something hit me on the head." Loki remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze still focused on an imaginary point in the air, before he added "well I guess it was probably someone that hit me, but I saw naught… I only remember the pain on the back of my skull when I woke up in that horrid damp cellar. I don't know however how long I stayed there… it seemed to last months but I guess it was probably just about a fortnight."

Both men remained silent for a minute, before the interrogator decided to encourage 'Walter' a little further.

"Did you recognize any of the men that kept you locked underground? Had you met any of them before?"

"No Sir" answered Loki with aplomb. "I have never seen any of them before. And I never knew why they had seized me, among everybody else! That question just drove me crazy for days down there !".

Loki was starting to enjoy this little role play. Pretending to be scared, ignorant and pathetic mortal was much more fun that he had imagined, and he was somehow delighted to be able to remember and use every tiny detail of his knowledge on Midgard to give life to this harmless character. He knew he had to be careful on the language though, remembering how his elaborated answers had angered his captors a few days before, who had ended up calling him a '17th century dictionary Queen'. He didn't need to be Midgardian by birth to understand that they had found his speech a little too old-fashioned. He had definitely to work on that if he had to pretend to be 'just a regular man that happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time'.

"According to the other persons that were locked down alongside you, interrogations took place in the Mansion during their detention. Did you experience any of these yourself?" resumed Mr. Potter.

Loki knew there was no point in denying it. "Yes I did"

"How many times?"

"Four times, if my memory is not failing me… "

"Do you remember what those interrogations were about?"

"I…. I am not sure that I can be of any help…" started Loki, looking down once more as if he was embarrassed of his memories. "Most of their talk did not make sense to me I… I could not understand what they wanted of me so they kept… they kept hurting me… I don't even know… I don't even know how…"

Desperation was a feeling that the God of Mischief hated above anything else. 'Faking desperation', however, was growing on him like a new drug of some kind. Raising frantic eyes to meet the sorcerer's, he had to fight the urge to grin when he had the confirmation that his little act was working. Harry Potter's gaze had suddenly softened as he pushed slightly his chair away to get up, reducing the empty space between them to sit on the edge of the desk in front of him.

*Proximity to emulate intimacy and to prompt me into trusting him… and they call me 'old-fashioned'?* thought Loki, knowing however that he had to grab that opportunity to install his story a little deeper in the ground.

The sorcerer broke the silence to encourage him once more, but this time with more genuine concern in his voice, replacing the formal protocol questions with a more gentle approach.

"So you said nothing made sense to you. Do you remember any of the words they used that you had trouble with? Anything?"

Loki pretended to think really hard about that question, knowing exactly what the young wizard was after.

"I'm not sure… they kept asking about some kind of 'mystery office', or 'department'… and also about floo networks, well at least I think that's the word they used er… sorry". Loki did his best to look contrite, staring at Harry Potter's shoes as if his memories could reflect on them like a mirror. He suddenly raised his head and added "oh, and they kept asking me about my blood, if I was a pure-blood or a… a… a mugger-born?"

The young sorcerer shook his head in acknowledgment, as if all of his questions had been answered through Loki's stammering. Releasing slightly the tension in his torso, he reached out for Loki's shoulder with what was meant to be a reassuring grip.

"Don't worry Mr… sorry what did you say your name was again?"

"Lawson" quickly corrected Loki, alert to any kind of snare, intended or not.

"Right sorry, Mr. Lawson. I know it doesn't make sense to you, but it does do me, at least for part of it. It's all fine if you don't recall everything just yet. It was a traumatic experience for you, we can understand that."

Loki allowed himself to smile to the young man, showing deliberate gratefulness and relief as the sorcerer stood up, walking around his desk to get back to his seat.

"I think we should let you rest for a bit before discussing your statement further, if that's ok with you."

Loki nodded silently, forcing his face to embody a perfect mask of false strain and weariness once again. Harry Potter kept on.

"We will need some time to check on some details, and we have more victims to debrief as well, as you can imagine… we'll know more about all this pretty soon I'm sure. Do you have a place to stay in London so that we can reach you as soon as we are ready to proceed? Family maybe, or friends?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't… I never really left home before, never saw the point of it really" answered Loki with another one of these shy smiles he was becoming accustomed to.

"That's fine", reassured the sorcerer. "I'll ask a colleague of mine to come to pick you up here and find you a place to stay… at least until this matter is all cleared."

"Thank you Mr. Potter. That's very kind of your, er, employers".

The young sorcerer finally smiled to him and shook his hand with a surprisingly strong and confident grip before walking out of the office, leaving Loki on his own to savor silently his perfectly orchestrated masquerade.

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Her ears were ringing as if she had just faced an army of angry mermaids. Her eyes were stinging just like when a frightened muggle had attacked her with pepper spray. Her throat was sore as if she had just eaten one of Weasleys' Wizards Wheezes' Ton-Tongue Toffees. But above all else her heart seemed about to burst.

She was so angry and depressed that she felt that she could have beheaded anyone that stared back at her with just a wave of her wand. She felt that she could start a fire in a second if anyone dared to ask her if she was fine. She was sure that she could break head, shoulders, knees and toes to whoever would tell her that she looked like a mess. She was a mess. She knew it. She had foreseen it even though she had hoped that for once someone in this damn Ministry would see beyond protocols and acknowledge the efficiency of her methods.

But no. After 7 years of service in the Auror Office, she was still denied to right to pass the final exam to be an official Auror. After 7 years of training to gain every set of skills an Auror should have, she was left behind, forced to obey and take timid advises from younger wizards. After 7 years, it was still fairly obvious that no one trusted her enough to let her work in the Auror Department without a chaperon. What else should she have to prove?

*All of this because of John 'Damn' Dawlish* she thought bitterly. *Just because my mentor was sentenced for treason doesn't mean that every protégé of his was a traitor as well… why can't anybody get that?!*

She couldn't believe it. She had just freed seven prisoners and unveiled the existence of a new coalition of Death Eaters, and yet all her superiors had to say is that she was 'too reckless to be trusted'? Of course she was reckless! Her recklessness was what had allowed her to confirm any weak evidence that she had gathered so far. Without her recklessness, no one would have ever followed those leads. No one would have dared being used as a bait to reveal the exact location of the Death Eaters' head-quarters. No wizard would have had the guts to step into the lions' den with nothing else but a muggle GPS tracker device as his only chance to be rescued. Every single one of them was just a coward hiding in the Ministry behind rules and protocols.

How could they fire her – wait no: put her on 'temporary leave', beg your pardon – after the success of that mission? They had found detained wizards, caught two Death Eaters on the run and had taken from them a mysterious weapon that seemed more powerful than anything they had encountered before. How could that mission end up like this?

Packing angrily her personal belongings in the cubicle that had been hers for the past 7 years, her mind somehow managed to cool down a bit when it wandered back to that mysterious weapon she had found in the mansion. She could still feel its coldness between her fingers and its lightness in her hands: how could a staff made of steel could be so light? For a moment she had the impression to be blinded just by remembering how radiant the power source of the staff was. But was it a power source? A light? Skye was convinced that somehow she had caught sight of a stone shaped item beyond the light, but how could that be?

She was now conscious that ever since she had lain her eyes on that weapon, her mind had been trying to crack the mystery out of it. Even during her 'debriefing / termination' meeting, she had kept thinking about it, the blue light keeping her awake as much as it was blinding her from her surroundings.

She couldn't leave the Ministry without seeing it again. She had to find out what it was, or at least gather enough information about it to keep searching about it outside of the Ministry.

Slightly cheered up by this new self-entrusted mission Skye tossed her backpack on her shoulders and started towards the temporary detention sector in the Investigation Department of the Auror Office. Apparently, the word about her temporary leave had not spread out yet through the entire department, since the guards of the detention facility didn't make any trouble about her visiting the imprisoned sorcerers. They even congratulated her for the catch! *What a fat lot of good it does me!*

When she reached the cell she was looking for, she wasn't even surprised to be greeted by a sardonic smile.

"I should have known that you would be the first one here to come and brag about this" started the man bitterly before she could open her mouth. "Happy?", he asked, his arms spreading open on his side in a poor martyr-like impression.

"You have no idea!" she simply answered, barely smiling.

"I bet you love how the roles got reversed here: you walking around like you own the place, and me stuck in this bright over-lighted chamber…"

"Do I hear you complain about your accommodation Travers?" she teased him. "I'm sure I could arrange a chain or two to be added to your wrists and ankles, just how you like it".

His eyes would not let go of hers, his smile showing his satisfaction growing by the minute.

"I see that you are still mad at me for our little chat earlier this week" he calmly commented while moving towards the bench on the side of his cell. "It's a bit ironic don't you think, considering how you brought this to yourself? I should be the angry one here since you kind of destroyed my home…"

"A nice little home of yours indeed" she smiled. "With a pretty family of yours as well and their pretty little pets…"

"Oh don't give me that. We ARE a nice pretty family, but we did change our tastes in "pets", if you want me to call them that way… did you see any mud-blood down there?... nah, I don't think so"

"Fascinating" simply commented Skye with a highly bored expression.

Travers's smile faded slightly, obviously vexed by her indifference. "What do you want from me? I won't give any names if that's what you came for."

"I don't' care about names" she simply replied, taking Travers aback.

"What do you want then?"

"I want to know where you got that magic staff from, and what it does"

Travers greeted her question with a renewed smile and a provocative silence, showing her that he knew fairly well that he was now the one holding all cards in his hands.

"And what would you give me if I told you everything I know about the staff?"

"The Ministry would allow you to be released out of our facility until the day of your trial… as long as you remain under the monitoring of the Witch Watchers, that goes without saying" answered Skye automatically, in a tone that strongly stated how angry she was at the thought of letting him walk free.

Travers remained silent for a moment before rising up to stand in front of her, never breaking eye contact as if it could prevent her from bluffing.

"No matter how much I know about it?"

"No matter how much" she replied in a dull voice.

He stepped back a little, frowning to her statement as if it didn't make any sense.

"Why would the Ministry release me for some bits of intel? Every knows that Shakelbolt never showed no mercy towards dark sorcerers… why would he now, while you only got two of us?"

Skye didn't reply straight away, staring in his eyes with as much confidence and hatred as she could manage. He had to know that she hated offering this bargain to him. But he also had to know that she wasn't just a weak messenger.

She answered his frown even more coolly than before, stating the facts automatically as if she was just a robot that had no choice but to repeat what she had been told to."You're right, there is no precedent to this offer, but the policy has changed due to exceptive circumstances: We need information about that weapon. You have information about that weapon. Hence, we bargain for it. That's as simple as that."

Remaining still for a moment, Travers eventually moved forward towards her, intensifying his frown as if it could help him see through her and check the liability of her statements.

"And what proof would I have that 'the Ministry' will keep its word?"

She waved her wand to call for a piece of parchment that had been waiting in her bag. She unrolled it to straighten the paper in front of his eyes for him to read.

"Freshly signed by the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shakelbolt". She handed the parchment and a quill through a small hatch on the door of his cell and said coldly "You just have to sign now and tell me everything you know about the staff. You'll be out of here before the end of the day".

Travers hesitated for a minute before rushing to the parchment, quickly reading through it before signing it and handing it back to her.

"So…" started Skye, moving away from him to release the tension in her body that had grown with her impatience. "What is this staff?"

Travers went back to his bench silently and folded one leg on top of the other one, a cocky smile illuminating his wrinkled face as he started.

"I'm afraid I don't have a lot of things to say about that. For two weeks we had the thing, and no one ever found out how it worked. It's powerful, we're sure of that. And it has its own will: That thing drove a few of ours crazy if they spent too much time with it… but no one ever cracked it yet… at least not that I am aware of…"

Travers stopped, his gaze lost on the wall as if he was living those weeks of complete incomprehension once more. Skye - already annoyed - summoned him back on Earth.

"So you don't know what it is, or what it does… how practical! But at least you can tell me how you found it? Or that you don't know either?!"

Travers laughed lightly at this question.

"I wish I would say that for poetry purposes only, but if you must know: that damn thing just appeared from nowhere, as if it had fallen from the sky."

"You're kidding me? Fell from the sky?" snapped Skye, stepping closer to the cell angrily. "That's the kind of information you think will get you out of here? Really ?"

Travers stood up, ready to defend his bargain. "If you don't believe me, just ask that weird folk about it, er, 'leather guy' we called him. Never knew his name. Tall guy, all dressed in leather, long black-hair… do you see who I'm talking about?"

Skye raised an eyebrow, staring at him with contempt like a mother could stare silently at a child trying to lie his way out of a retribution.

Not getting the reaction he had expected from her, Travers stepped closer. "Just go and ask him right now, he's just down the corridor! They locked him in just an hour ago… This guy must know about the weapon: we found him on the same day that we ran onto the staff, just a few yards away from it... If I had to bet on who's got the biggest secrets down here, I'd bet that's him!"

Skye remained still for seconds that seemed to last minutes, and finally moved away from him without a word, to pick-up her bag and throwing it on her shoulder.

As she started to walk away without even casting a glance at him, the prisoner hurried to the cell-door, calling after her. "Hey, wait!... When will I get released now?"

Not even turning her back to him, she simply shouted out through the corridor "When you will stop falling for cheap tricks!", before heading straight to the end of the corridor to find this mysterious "leather guy".

When she reached his cell and laid her eyes on him, she couldn't help but grin a little: at least she wasn't the only one within the Ministry of Magic to be mad as hell.


	5. Chapter 5: Mind games

**Note: **I have to apologize for the delay between these two chapters. I never thought I would struggle so much to write this part, which was one of the ones I was looking forward to the most! I'm really sorry about this!

The good news is that I'll be working away from home (and from descent civilization) for the next 6 months (started last week), which means that - deprived of internet - I'll have nothing to do but to write! The next chapter should come faster I reckon!

Thank you anyway for anyone who reads and follows this story, and I hope you won't be disappointed with this new chapter!

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**Chapter 5: Mind games**

Loki had heard her footsteps echo through the corridor, closing in on him with anger and determination. Standing up at the back of his bright cell he was waiting for her, his arms tensed at his sides with anger, his whole self just longing for another duel. But he knew he had to remain cool-headed a little bit longer: Walter Lawson had every right to be mad for being wrongfully imprisoned. But he didn't have the right to let his anger let loose any glimpse of magic. Walter Lawson was an innocent mortal that had no knowledge of magic whatsoever. And Walter had had enough of this 'Ministry of Magic' absurdity.

When she finally reached his cell-door, he feigned his surprise to see her, as if she was the last person he had been expecting to visit. Actually, he was only surprised that she had not come to him earlier, assuming that his imprisonment had been nothing but the result of her obvious suspicion back at the mansion.

Skye did not feign nor hide her surprise either when she saw him. The man she had in front of her had nothing to do with the one she had been expecting to interrogate. But she was too tired of these lies and schemes to pretend that she bought it: there was something wrong about this man, and she was not going to be shy about it.

"I see that you found a better outfit… "she started, pointing at his clothes with an ironic frown.

Loki glanced down at his light-brown trousers and jacket, and the white shirt he was wearing underneath, remembering that he had managed to use a bit of magic to change his clothes into something less conspicuous after he had met her in the cell, just before joining the fight and knocking her down to take the scepter from her hands in the middle of a room full of wizards.

Taken aback for the first time since he had entered the Ministry, Loki simply looked back up in her direction without a word, letting her keep on:

"I get that leather is not the best option for official questioning, but it clearly suited you better than this!" she teased him, the tip of her tongue pointing slightly between her teeth as a jest.

*So much for my perfectly orchestrated masquerade!* thought disappointingly Loki. *Oh Walter…*

"I'll miss him" he simply said with an exaggerated pout, reaching carefully for his magic to restore his clothes to their original materials and colors. He was relieved to see that small tricks such as these where still within his reach: maybe his magic had just failed him temporarily… it should be back to normal in no time.

Momentarily distracted by his little trick, Skye stopped grinning, her brain processing his words only a few seconds later. She frowned once more, this time genuinely. "Miss who?"

"Well, that old dear Walter Lawson of course!" teased Loki, letting his facial traits get rid of Walter's fear and wariness to return to their original mask of mischief: a very fine composition made of playfulness and menace. He continued. "A very fine man I must say. You should have kept him around. He would have never hurt a fly!"

"While you would, you mean?" retorted Skye, apparently not really convinced.

Loki paused for a moment, as if thinking heavily about her question. "I very well might, if you must know. But it would depend on what the fly would have done, or if it had wronged me in some way… " He anchored his eyes in hers before continuing "… or maybe if it had just stood in my path, buzzing in my ear, being a nuisance… who knows ? I like to describe myself as a very unpredictable persona"

"And you surely like to listen to the sound of your own voice a lot!" teased Skye once more, reaching for her wand to summon for a chair, sitting down casually, arms and legs folded, staring right back at him. After a minute of silence, she invited him to sit down as well. "I feel we have a lot to discuss… this could take a while".

Loki didn't move for a minute, never taking his eyes of hers, his disdain restlessly fighting the amusement in her eyes. When he finally turned around to head back to his bench, he heard her voice break the silence once more.

"God, you really love to creep people out don't you? I really feel like Clarice Starling interviewing Hannibal Lecter…" Her smile only met his bored gaze, which weirdly enough seemed to encourage her to keep up with her insignificant chatter. "Well I guess you never saw 'the Silence of the Lambs', muggle-stuff and all… You're a pure-blood aren't you?"

"I like to believe so indeed, but you might say it depends of the point of view"

"You think yourself a pure-blood, and yet you diminish your obvious greatness and stain your precious blood by pretending to be a muggle… that's a little odd don't you think?"

"If you feel that 'odd' is the only appropriate word to describe my figure, let it be so" smoothly replied Loki, ever so bored.

"I hope you like it then", she taunted him once more.

He straightened himself a little more, regally. "As a matter of fact I might well do!"

Silence. Loki had never been afraid of silence. He was a loner. He loved silence and was used to it. But for once, silence seemed to have switched sides and betrayed him. It was no longer his ally. She had taken control of it and had managed – somehow – to make him resent this silence. Loki was never the one the break an awkward silence. And yet…

"How long do you intend to detain me in this geol?"

"Dunno… do you care? You didn't seem to complain that much last time I saw you locked up… at least this cell is much cleaner than your former loggings"

Loki grinned, annoyed. "I do not care for sanitary preoccupations, nor for light nor food quality. But I do like to know why I am being apprehended."

"Maybe for the same reason that you were before."

Loki couldn't hold a thin smile. "I strongly doubt that."

"Why is that?" asked Skye, jumping on the occasion to hunt for more details about the recent events.

Loki didn't even care to answer, staring intensively in her eyes before lowering his head to investigate his nails, using that simple gesture to express his annoyance. Skye bent over on her chair, her elbows on her knees, narrowing her eyes on him as if it was only a momentary myopia crisis that kept her from seeing through him like she wanted to.

"What are you?" she asked bluntly, not even trying to hide her curiosity behind a formal tone any longer.

Startled by this suddenly direct question, Loki looked up again, keeping his lips closed in a thin line to avoid answering a question he wasn't sure how to answer to. His silence didn't seem to matter as Skye kept on, apparently incapable of keeping her doubts to herself.

"You are not one of us. You were never registered by this Ministry, that, we are sure of" she started, leaving her chair to walk closer to him. "But you are not a Death Eater either…"

Loki raised an eyebrow and could not help but to interrupt, eager to underline some flows in her logic.

"Why aren't I? Because I was confined in a cell?"

Skye suddenly seemed to realize that he was alive and smiled at his remark, pointing and waving her wand at him as she would with her finger, hotheaded by her mental deductions.

"Not because you were detained… a unsatisfactory companion can always be set aside for a while as a warning or a punishment… but you… you are way too clever to be one of them."

Loki's mouth twitched into a content smile at her remark, before shrinking to a wince as a violent pain abruptly overwhelmed him, his stomach dropping and his head pounding wildly as if a Bilgesnipe had just charged at him and trampled over his body. Yet he was still in his cell, sat on his bench, a few yards from the only living being that had dared come in his vicinity. What was happening to him?

As he was struggling to focus beyond the pain that had momentarily blinded him, he realized that she was no longer speaking to him but had never ceased to stare into his eyes, her arms extended in front of her to support her body, her hands clenching the bars of his cell in a firm grip as if she was trying to push the metal inward, her wand still in her right hand. What the hell was happening to her?

And suddenly he felt it. Or more precisely: he felt her. She had found a way into his mind and was avidly searching for any bit of information that she could grasp.

Skye had known all along that this man would never tell her anything willingly. She didn't know how, but she knew it. There was something about him that had bothered her from the start, the first time she had laid her eyes on him: his lean figure in the dark in a corner of his cell, his silent compliance to his captors' will, the way he paced in his geol from time to time when he was not resting peacefully on the floor as if he was comfortably lying at home… There was too much confidence in that captive. She had to know who he was and how he was related to the scepter. And she was running out of time.

She had always been a gifted legilimens. Breaking into his mind didn't cause any problem at all. What she found inside, however, wasn't like anything she had ever encountered before. There were so many threads to unravel, so many paths to follow, that she quickly started to wonder if she might not risk losing her mind in the process.

She was used to find her way down anyone's subconscious and memories and to target the right segments of memories or emotions to reach the secret passages that she needed. She could see in their mind as clearly as if it was in hers, like a bright picture of days gone not so long ago. But in his head, everything was upside down. Every corner of his mind was a net of thousands of memories all intertwined together so densely that no light could have shone through. Every single memory was pierced from all side by dozens of different emotions, feelings that were so strong and vivid that they all seem to mingle into rage. All she could get were glimpses, snapshots of his memories that she could barely process and understand. Nothing made sense. Only the rage.

His memories seemed to come from another time, as if striped from thousands of dreams of bright and shiny places, the grandeur of the landscapes and buildings sending her spinning into the depths of his intricate mind. She was swallowed into the light towards stunning mountains and surreal edifices, making her dizzy until she realized that she had reached darkness and nothingness, as if she had been suddenly sent right into his nightmares, nightmares made of fading stars and smoldering hopes shaped into an endless fall through space and time. All she could feel throughout her journey was pain and anger. And the rage. The rage had never left her side.

All of a sudden, she felt that rage turn towards her, as if a real monster had appeared from the abyss of his mind to chase her down this terrifying maze. He knew she was there, and he was fighting back.

It had taken Loki not even a minute to realize what she was doing, but he knew that even a few seconds could be enough to reveal too much about him. Not that he thought that a mortal could master mind-reading better than he did. No. This trick had taken him decades to begin to understand: It was impossible that the midgardian child standing in front of him could even initiate any dangerous inquisition inside his mind. But however impossible this threat might be, it would not let her try. She had played her hand. He would now play his.

Brushing the pain away from his consciousness as one would turn a page from a book, he began to focus on its source, holding to the sensation of her mind inside his like a wolf tracking the scent of a careless hunter that had dared to walk into its territory. He could feel her more intensely by every second, closing in on her, pushing after her until she was so close that he had the impression that he could have physically touched her. But touching her mind to force her out of his mind was not his purpose. He knew better than that. Sensing her alarm as she tried to pull away from this trap, he released the entire strength that was left in him to push further towards her, breaching through her defenses like she had done to him just a minute before.

*One should never open a door when he does not know what lies on the other side* he lectured proudly and hungrily, inebriated by the awareness that she could hear him inside her head, that he had won the fight.

She could feel him search through her mind like a meticulous thief trying to rob her home from every possession, whether it worth something or not. She had learned occlumensy and knew how to shut her mind to any intrusion, but his attack had been so violent that she felt numb, knocked down by the wall of her house that just had collapsed on her. She could see every memory that he was feeding on. She could feel every emotion that he was stanching his thirst with. She could hear his rage turn into frenzy had he relished on her fear and her defeat.

He had ripped her soul open in one defensive thrust and yet, it seemed to her now that she could see him clearer than she had when she had attempted to dissect his mind. He might have won the fight and taken control over her mind, but in doing so, he had revealed more than she would have ever hoped to discover in the labyrinth of his sick and gangrened soul.

Clinging to that thought, she suddenly felt her will raise up again and used every bit of energy that she had still in her to push him back and break their connection, returning to reality with such violence that it felt like a gigantic slap on her face. When her senses came back to her, she realized that she had fallen heavily on the floor, her fists still attached tightly around the bars of the cell. When she raised her eyes inside it, it seemed that she was seeing this man for the first time. He was nothing like the man she had though she was facing just a few minutes ago. He was way worse than that.

Even if he had exhausted most of his energy during that encounter, Loki was not ready to show any sign of weakness to his opponent. Yet, he was paler than before and his shoulders had sunk down a little, his hands supporting him either side of his body by gripping tightly the edge of the bench where he wall still sitting. But as tired and eager to recover as he was, his gaze would not flinch. She had to know that he was not one to be handled and manipulated so easily. She had to know what to fear. She had to know what real magic was. What power was.

The god of mischief had to fight the urge to smile. Now that the fury triggered by her intrusion was fading, it was replaced by the most surprising liberation: the liberation to know that he had in front of him a way out. A way out of this prison, and a way out of his maddening magic impairment. Although he did not know so far what had caused this sudden weakening of his powers, he now had the certainty that it was only temporary, and that with the right cure he would recover soon enough his rightful abilities. That cure was in front of him, cradled on the floor, panting heavily like a soldier struck in the stomach. He could already feel his magic run stronger through his veins, as surely as he could feel hers radiating a little fainter from her body. By breaching through his mind she had not only opened a door to her mind and memories, but also to the very source of her magic.

*Such a divine opportunity must surely not be wasted…*, thought Loki.

Still on the floor, Skye was shaking slightly, panting and sweating as if she had just ran a marathon, but never taking her eyes of the threat in front of her. Now that she was out of his head, the images she had came across in her investigation seemed a bit clearer. And it scared her as much as it fascinated her… Or maybe fascination was the strongest feeling of them both.

"What are you?" she asked out of breath, slowly getting up from the floor to regain a bit of mien. Facing Loki's silence, she kept on, a little louder and with more confidence. "Where the hell do you come from?"

Loki's mouth finally shifted to a provocative smile, his smirk sending shivers all the way down her spine.

"Why should I answer any of your questions? It appeared to me that you are not, after all, invested with any real authority within this organization, am I mistaken?"

Startled for a second, Skye then shook her head with a small defeated smirk as if she admitted the fairness of his attack. Walking away a few paces to clear her mind, she finally stopped in front of him with a relaxed smile, confident that she had found the right angle to force him out of his stillness.

"I might not have any official authority in here, as you justly pointed out, but I believe I am the only one here who might be tempted to let you walk out of here… today…".

She paused for a moment, and then continued, since her offer had only managed to arch an eyebrow on the prisoner.

"You could also use your magic to ease yourself out of the Ministry all by yourself, but considering that you did not do so up till now – even back in your dungeons – I must guess that you are not as all mighty as you want me to think".

She raised her shoulders and cast him a desolated pout, as if she was sorry for him, and then added cheerfully, "That's up to you… leather guy!", before sitting back down on her chair casually.

Loki bit his tongue, nearly admitting now that she had a point. Slowly standing up to walk towards her, he finally responded, eyes narrowed in a thin line.

"And may I ask why exactly you would let me walk free? I must admit that I cannot help myself to cast a doubt over your intentions, as… hum, _virtuous_… as you appear to be…" A wry smile had lightened his face on his feigned hesitation, assuring her openly of the mockery that what intended behind it.

"Is 'curiosity' a good enough reason for you?" she answered with a tired beam, arms folded on her chest casually.

"It might well be so" simply answered the god of mischief, nodding appraisingly. "And how may I satisfy this curiosity, _My Lady_?" His teasing smirk contrasted with the contempt with which he had spat the last two words. "What do you wish to know?"

Skye didn't lose any more time.

"That's simple enough: I want to know why and how you came here, why the Death Eaters were interested in you, and what is that precious weapon of yours that everyone is fussing about."

Loki rolled his eyes as if he had spent his life answering these very same questions. He turned and paced in his cell for a moment, eyeing her conspicuously from time to time as if to measure the intensity of her anxiety and of her nosiness. He finally stopped again in front of her, his hands tied in his back.

"You are aware that there is no simple response to any of your inquisitions, are you not? Nothing you would fully comprehend in any case"

Skye eyed him defiantly. "Try me"

Loki sighted and started to walk slowly through is cell, raising his eyes from the floor from time to time to probe her reactions to his answers.

"You have already seen where I come from I believe", he started.

She raised an eyebrow, doubtful. "Those fairy tales sceneries that your head was filled with, you mean?"

"I wouldn't call any of it fairy tales, but if I must do so for you to understand…" he mumbled, shaking his head and rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"So you're from a ferric environment with shiny castles and mighty mountains… right." She admitted boringly to let him continue. "Keep going".

"So you have seen where I come from, and I do believe that you might also have seen how I left it…"

He saw her pausing for a moment and could tell from the way she swallowed with difficulty that she did remember the haunting images of his fall. He was surprised though by the tone she used to confirm that she knew what he was talking about.

"You mean… your flew out of space?" she spat, cynical. "No one ever tried that one with me before!"

"No so much flying out of it as falling through it", quietly continued Loki, undisturbed by her skepticism.

Skye wished she had something to throw at him to make him stop his 8-years-old sci-fi tale. But another hand, the more she thought about the words that were coming out of him, the more she started to understand the images and sensations she had whirled through a few minutes ago whilst in his mind. Scarily, this lunatic's tale was making sense.

"I dare say that I never intended to land on your realm" he continued, "but as the current situation may reveal: here I am."

Skye couldn't help but to urge him to continue, as dubious as she was about his story.

"So you ended up here and what? You just happen to fall right onto a gang of dark wizards and they decide to imprison you just for fun?"

Skye had intended that remark to sound ridiculous, but she realized mentally that this kind of misfortune could actually happen to anyone that ran into a gang of creepy Death Eaters. Nevermind.

Loki smirked. "Though it was not as straightforward at you put it, that is pretty close to what happened… minus a little confrontation whose outcome was unfortunately not to my advantage."

"Why did they attack you? … Or did you attack them?"

Loki grinned once more, still pacing slowly through the room, hesitating a few seconds before answering with a voice heavy with resentment.

"Let's just say that they tried to take something of mine that I was not ready to part from yet"

"The scepter" concluded Skye without hesitation.

"You are quite right", he confirmed simply.

Her smiled shifted, her skepticism eventually fading away to let her curiosity take over, nourished by the renewed hope that she would finally get the answer she had come to the prisons for in the first place.

She rose from her chair to get closer.

"Which leads back to my initial question to you: what is this scepter, and what does it do?"

Loki smiled again, happy to see this conversation end up right where he had intended it to. He stopped, standing up in front of her with assurance, anchoring his eyes in hers determined to never let go until she yielded to his will.

"Reunite me with it and you will find out"

Skye was not fooled by his sudden suave tone.

"What does it do?" she repeated without blinking.

"Nothing you need to worry about", he answered casually. *First lie*.

"I ask you again", she reiterated. "What does it do?"

"It does not kill, if it is what you demand." *Second lie*.

"What…does… it… do?" As Loki remained silent, she calmly added. "You should know I can stay here and repeat that question over and over for a veeery long time".

Loki sighted once more, aware of the stubbornness of his interlocutor. They were both running out of time. His voice was lower now, as if he was now revealing some kind of unspeakable confidence.

"It allows me to travel through space. It is my only chance to get back to where I belong" *Is that truly a lie?*

Skye took in the information and processed it for a few seconds, before asking with a frown.

"Why would the Death Eaters want your staff, if they didn't know what it was?"

"For the same reason that you couldn't stop staring at it when you had it in your hands."

Skye stilled, hit by the truth of his words. Loki seized the opportunity to continue, stepping a little closer.

"And for the same reason that you never stopped thinking about it ever since".

He kept on, knowing how close she was to give in.

"I can see it in your eyes. Your mind will not rest until you have seen with your own eyes the true power of this weapon. In front of you stand your only chance to get rid of this fixation… the only individual on this realm that can wield it and show you its magic." He paused to let the words sink in and carried on.

"If you accept to help me, I shall show you what you wish to know and I will then leave this place to never return. That is all there has to be to it. A very simple bargain indeed: answers to your questions in exchange for my freedom."

As she remained silent, Loki decided to risk a last little push to convince her, using emotions he had foreseen when inside her head.

"And what a better way to leave your former employers than to deprive them in the process of the means to gloat about a success that was, after all, no one but yours?"

As Skye gave in, her tamed anger rushing back at the thought of the way she had been laid-off earlier in the day, she forced her body back in motion to walk towards the door of his cell, stopping a second to comment with defeat before waving her wand to release him:

"Just so you know: I am totally aware that you manipulated me into doing this".

Stepping out of his cage gracefully like a lion ready to return to the wild, Loki raised an eyebrow at her, curious. "And yet you let me walk free…"

Skye only shook her shoulders upside down, as if she was helpless in the matter.

"Well, as you rightly pointed it out: I am no longer working for this organization… so who cares about one last bad decision…"


End file.
